The poet
by Writer from the Soul
Summary: Daxter, fellow goth poet finds that Jak also writes! They enter a poetry contest to see just who's wearing the lingual pants in the place.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Daxter writes freestyle goth poetry in his spare time.

'I killed you, you aggrivated me too far  
Feasted on the blood dripping from the bullet holes in your neck  
Like a vampire in a donation clinic  
Little did I realize your little clinic was for diseased patients only  
And disease crept into my system infectious  
You dirty mother fucker, now I have AIDS  
But that's okay, I had a premonition  
A negative being as myself can't expect much good  
Please come in Death, I like it slow and painful'

"Yes, this is my masterpiece for the ages!" Yelled a peculiar little animal. "Daxter, that is the name that will be hailed as the poet supremo for the century.. no, millenium! I will be immortalized in my work forever!"

All of a sudden Daxter realized that his Green haired buddy Jak was standing right over his back, for who knew how long.

"The weirdness just never ends with you man. I thought I was the darker one here."

Daxter scoffed, "No way, I've always been way darker than you, even if you were pumped full of dark eco for 2 years! I just concentrate it all into my amazing works, isn't this brilliant?"

Jak began to snicker, then laugh and howl until he fell smack on his behind drawing streams of blood from his tongue as his teeth clamped down in it. Even then he still wailed like a hyena.

"No way, my poetry is way better. Lemme show you."

All daxter could do was stare and comment "You look so sexy with blood running down your mouth.."

Jak left and returned with his latest work..

'I grind your intestines between a rock and a hard place  
Savouring the rotting remnants of feces pouring out the ends  
Decomposition, decay, the skeletons whispering within the innards of..  
My unforgiving soul.  
I thrive on it!'

"Well, thats pretty black but it doesn't even touch my artistic works, you write like an illiterate." Daxter sneered.

Jak contested, "Oh yeah? Well how about we enter the poetry contest tomorrow and let the judges decide on that?"

"Tch.. fine with me..."

In his biting cold reality, Daxter was actually a little fearful. But that feeling mutated viciously into determination as Daxter began to write down his most cryptic, brutal poem ever. He was sure the average Joe would feel chills running up and down his spine just by coming within 50 feet of it..


	2. Chapter 2

"Aha! My masterpiece is finished!".

Daxter spent the whole night meditating on the darkest crevices of his soul to work it out, today was the day he would finally be recognized for his art! He had been waiting for so long to come out of his shell and unleash the brutality onto the pages for millions of readers everywhere to admire. But most of all, he'd finally show Jak who's really wearing the pants around here. Now was his chance, but before he spent too long fantasizing about the future he had to win over the judges.

Daxter remembered the judges we're known to the disgruntled failures and even winners of the previous competitions to be major 'booksnobs'. Elitist about which pieces of writing they would ever let cross their eyes and tough to please. In previous years he had secretly been following the other competition and studying their works, looking for tips on good writing and on many occasions he saw crushed faces and tears as they ripped out of the building after a big loss. He mused that writers must've been a very sensitive lot, the type that cried along to episodes of "Passions" during the shows peak. Then feared that maybe those judges really we're that hard.

He daydreamed on reading in a dark room for a wicked witch of the west type of hag who would use her black magic to sprout him a second head for disrespecting her linguistic authority. Cackling and all..

"Hey space cakes, it's time to go!" Daxter jumped at Jak's interruption but composed himself in the second. Jak grinned maliciously and set the ottsel on his usual perch on his shoulder.

"You know you're going down Jak, this is brutal like you can't even imagine!"

Not another word was exchanged as they left their little apartment above the Naughty Ottsel and headed just down the street where the contest was. The joint was pretty much as Daxter imagined earlier, wicked librarian types behind the judges table and all. There wasn't much for an elaborate setup, you just showed up, lined up single file, gave your name when it was your turn and read what you've got. At the end the 1st place winner would be called up to the stage and be given a sponser for their work to be published, there we're no second, third places or consolation prizes. After that the judges would take the losers out one by one and tell them exactly what was wrong with their writing. This is what Daxter feared most as he advanced through the line remembering the crushed faces once again.

"What is your name sir?" one of the old ladies drawled out. Time must've slipped away as they we're already at the front.

"Jak, and this is Daxter." he said giving him a light pat on the back. "He will be going after me, please don't ask any questions about his appearance."

"Alright.. go on." She seemed bored but Daxter could see the analytical gleam in her eyes.

'Pure darkness seeps through every pore in my flesh like a beautiful disease.  
Transforming the very essence of my soul into one of bloodlust and rage.  
I sip on my morning tea as I rip your limbs apart into sections of three.  
Before me my revenge lies gruesomely scattered before me on this dreary day.

I smile at my accomplishment through rotting teeth.'

"That is all..."

The old ladies behind the counter wrote down their scores and evaluations wordlessly, Daxter barely caught on as they stopped writing and simply motioned him to show them his stuff.

He gulped and began to read..


	3. Chapter 3

'The average man ejaculates about 5000 times in a lifetime.  
You didn't once, I had you castrated.  
The average man will likely have a wife.  
You didn't, I said I'd pluck your teeth one by one if you dated.

I did so many things like these to make you miserable  
Yet you kept going through life with a smile.  
So here I am my son, slowly tearing your body apart over the table.  
Your pain fills me, pleasuring my sick sick soul for the while.'

The old lady let herself an approximating stare over the two, it was hard to tell just what may have been going in her head through the cold stare. "You're both disgusting, don't even bother staying for the results."

The rest of the judges murmered in agreement and that was it. They we're headed out of the building and back to their shoddy little apartment above The Naughty Ottsel. It was pretty disappointing that neither knew which of the two was superior to the other in "BRUTAL" skills.

"Man, I totally wrecked you either way." Daxter sneered.

"Whatever."

Jak walked along down the street ignoring Daxter as he rambled on and on about exactly why Jak's poetry sucked while his was a work of art, into the bar, up the stairs, into the apartment and eventually into bed. He would not let it go, Jak half expected to wake up the next morning to him still going on about it.

But in their lives, neither knew who really was the better writer. Jak and Daxter both were killed in a Zoomer accident almost 60 years later, Jak stubbornly refused to get glasses although he was legally blind, "We'll be fine." Daxter was never returned to his human form, and they were never separated. Even in death Jak and Daxter we're right by the other's sides, with Jak holding Daxters' body into his chest protectively.

At the scene of the accident, a book was found by the penned title of "Daxter's incredibly amazing, fantastic and unbeatable poetry and short stories", it was over 1300 pages long. The latter few hundred pages written over the previous 20 years or so we're actually quite good and we're published, selling millions of copies everywhere.

Daxter became a legendary icon over the years and centuries, even more so then Jak who's name slowly faded away into ancient history until he was only known as the lifelong companion of the amazing Daxter, who did some political work on the side. Daxter would have laughed in his face if they were alive to see this, "So now we know who's REALLY the sidekick around here.". Sappy fanfiction writers everywhere imitated his work, wrote bad stories bout his life and cried over the "misfortune" that he could never see his dreams of being a famous writer play out.


End file.
